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Bear looked across at him and David launched into their second song, letting the words fill his head.
Forget about her.
He noticed Slim and Bear exchanging a glance and he pulled himself together, making a last-ditch effort for the band. He closed his eyes and finally, the words vibrated in his chest, true and clear, and he was back into it. The small disquiet still niggled at him but he pushed it away.
Chapter Twelve
A hot breath stirred against her cheek and Megan turned her head into David’s face, parting her lips softly to take his kiss. Her eyes opened slowly and confusion filled her as she looked into a white-tented wall.
Not David?
In her dream he had been lying next to her on the soft grass and his hands had been touching her face with feather light strokes.
“Are you with us now, darlin’?”
A pair of concerned brown eyes came into her view as she slowly lifted her head.
“What did you take?”
“What did I take?”
“Yeah, we think you must have had a bad trip. A couple of guys found you out in the field. You weren’t eating those mushrooms, were you?”
“What mushrooms? I only had a cup of tea.” Slowly Megan became aware of two men in some sort of medical uniforms hovering over her. She was in a tent and loud music slammed in through the opening. She sat up and put her hands over her ears. They were buzzing.
The two men exchanged a glance and the younger one passed her a glass of cold water. She took it and drank deeply, grateful for the cool liquid sliding down her parched throat.
“Where am I?”
“At the Glastonbury festival. This is the St. John’s first aid tent. You’ve been out of it for a few hours. The doctor checked you out earlier but he didn’t want to send you to the hospital because they’re out of room over there. He said to keep an eye on you and let you sleep it off.”
“We’ve got some questions for you before we can let you go.”
Megan nodded.
“First off, sweetheart, what’s your name?”
“Megan Miller.”
“Do you know the date?”
She squeezed her eyes closed. “It’s the first day of the festival so I guess it’s the 26th June.”
“Good girl, Last question. What’s your address?”
“In England or in Australia?”
“Here.” Her thoughts were getting back into some sort of order and the dull headache had eased.
“The McLaren place. Violet Cottage, just across the field.”
“Done good, love. Up you hop.”
A loud crash of drums and guitars came in through the open flap and the older man frowned. “Davy Morgan’s band is about to play. I swear they’re the loudest here. Hate that modern music.”
The young guy laughed. “But the young girls love him, Reg. We’ll have the next wave of them swooning and passing out within the hour. You mark my words.”
Megan followed the exchange with confusion as the events of the morning flooded her mind. “David Morgan’s here? And his band is playing?” She swung her legs off the side of the bed. “He’s all right, then?”
